All My Heroes Are Dead
by Don'tEvenHaveAGun
Summary: She dies in London but wakes in the hands of a stoic war collector of unusual things. Wrex searches for his bond-sister and Garrus desperately tries to contact Shepard's mother: Admiral Shepard.
1. Chapter 1

**All My Heroes Are Dead**

_As we fade into the dark, just remember you're the one to burn as bright._

**Title: Prologue**

**Word Count: 601**

There'd be some nights where they sought to find no way out. Humbly, they accepted the fate of the obscure surroundings to devour them with ship and whole. The stakes of losing was more valid and a great possibility to sit around for their end, and then there'd be other days where they'd work their hardest to find a way off the map, to disappear into voids that are unraveled with stars and fantasy. To only be discovered again with open arms upon their home worlds, unbroken, untouched, and just a bit of hope there.

They'd think back on their biggest asset, the means of motivation that riddled their very core and sent them into a spiral of ecstasy to please. And that one thing, that certain being was lost upon wreckage and the very ashes that sent her back into the Earth where she once become. Ash to ash, and nothing more.

They speak of stories where the hero lived at the end, they'd speak of the folly of the villain that was to be crippled under the weight of the world with odds against them that tend to be astronomical, bleakly abstract. Though, for their beloved Commander it seems time has ran out, and demise seemed to fester the very soul of it. Depleting the very marrow of her life, not even a lingering smile stood a chance to be engraved upon their self-conscious.

Her final moments were a lonely one, being that she held onto Anderson's hand the entire way, whispering, ghosting the very thought that he was _proud of her. _Within her other hand, wrapped in satin-lining, self-absorbed and it reminded her of her very heart, was her father's dog tags that were nervously fiddled with, thumbing over the imprint of _John_ and _Shepard_.

She sat staring upon the cosmic galaxy and this time she did not mock death, but hoped to find redemption in her second play.

Her crew would never know that and were left to their own devices of completing Shepard's dreams, her prayers, and final thoughts that were so briskly whispered.

She was a force to be reckoned with, timely in her fashion, an old soul ready to be renewed. Beauty was uttering, but never fading through the flashes of her sea-cream eyes, dazzling upon fixations of smothered hues. She'd drop like a bullet shell, and the scent of gunfire lingered across the valley of the dead. She'd shielded her eyes away from blooming hell, consuming fires that rank out its bells.

She'd jolted for Anderson's corpse, latching on so she wouldn't lose his body in the rumble when everything around them began to topple and crush. And then she was falling. She wasn't leaving no man behind, never again, not since Ashely.

With any once of will power she drew her omni-blade in a vibrant orange, slamming down the impact into the platform that gave her ground, hunkering down over Anderson's soulless remains, counting down the moments till she'd join his parade in the march of death.

Agony was the first to awake her, her eyes filled to the brim in fear. The world around her was shattering, glass busting under the compression, sparks falling in an array to grab for oxygen and combust.

She was not tagged as religious, respectful yes, but never religious. Though, when it came to her life hanging by a thread, the only thing she could scream out was, _"Dear, God. Why?"_


	2. Chapter 2

**All My Heroes Are Dead**

_With all this ammunition I'd end my days with you._

**Title: The War Collector**

**Word Count: 2,403**

A spasm of a muscle, eyes blurred under setting suns. The amnesic caused her body to stiffen and it was the only means to keep Commander Jane Shepard down to one place without letting the gun fly off the hip.

"_Sell her? Or eat her?"_

"_Of course we sell her. Can you imagine the remains of Commander Shepard must be worth? Dead or alive. We will not eat her."_

"_Saw the spike from under her. Must keep her alive, yes. Keep more blood from spilling out. Acts as plug. Just be careful with her, she's hurt. Critical to be correct and I'm afraid that she won't make the trip." _

"_Shut up, all of you. Move that body off of her. Take his tags while you're at it. David Anderson's actual tags will raise the price for us. Whatever the boss wants. Weird fuck. No – I don't want his body with us, he's decomposing he'll just smell up the shuttle."_

"_Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want." _

Her vision shifted among four figures that were lost among the backdrop of setting sun, she tried to reach out to shove them away, to only be dismissed by casting away her hand. She submitted when she felt the pooling pain radiate down her spine and across the pelvic region and on the account of that, she did not scream out.

She kept her gaze plastered upon smog smitten skies, a pink glaze that ran across London clouds. Her environment changed when multiple hands began to grab for her sides, levitating her figure up and off the rubble that surrounded her. Her muscles contracted from their pulls, and how her spirit grew strong but faded when one side gave her a thick jerk. She waivered, and cringed to weak nature of the moment.

She was gaining vision, clearer, more defined and the figure above her held her down when her shoulders began to rise when she touched solid surface again. "Don't move. Please don't" The accent rolled, and the nervous Quarian protested to her involuntary movements. He was holding her wondering hands down, hiding the fact that the spike that impaled her was still sticking out of her hip, and he feared that her body will render to shock and partake in a heart attack for defense. "Everything will be alright for the time being, human. Just don't move your hands when I begin to lift your armor."

"My father's dog tags. I need my father's tags." Shepard was mumbling, and her hand that was not held down reached out to touch the surface of glass that separated the Quarian's face from hers. He'd ignored that fact and set to work to pull apart shattered armor with his free hand, while the other ran occupied in comfort to touch her hand. Gloved hands touching human flesh and soaking up the russet coating down her face that was been mixed in blood, ash, and dirt.

"Don't invest yourself too much in that human, Ket. If she dies we only get half the profit. Even so, it still makes one hell of a profit for her body alone." The Quarian male hesitated for the moment, gloved tips ghosting over her hand, turning his glass to view the Turian behind him, his flange ran annoyance over the views and passion. The Quarian's palm brushed over the entire backside of her hand. Shepard's eyes reviewed no emotion when the he backtracked his attention to her.

The Turian threw down a chain that ended up hitting the Quarian's enviro-mask with a low _ping. _"Figure she's been bitching about these. Put them around her neck so she doesn't lose them again." This motion left the Turian away from the Quarian and out of mind for Shepard.

It took the Quarian a moment to collect himself, fumbling with the chain then left them in his lap when he leaned over Shepard's body to continue on with slowly removing her armor, letting his hands dive between the odd colorings of human blood and the tints of human flesh that contrasted so white to his dark gloves, slicing through her under suit that she wore like another skin.

She was exposed to the elements around her, but she was too weak to fight back against his helping hands. He made busy with their trip, and Shepard could feel the motion of a shuttle lifting off world. Morbidly, she kept her calm by watching the communicator from the Quarian's mask light up with every low hum he'd make, dragging cloth across her body to smooth over wounds and clean the infection that festered under his view. "My apologies, Shepard vas Normandy." He'd whisper whenever he came across sensitive flesh that tore.

Her visions were blurring again, she was losing vital need. Her brain was powering off, but she could still feel the hands of latex against her exposed skin, trying to revive when she needed to die, it is what her body was telling her. _"No, Mordin no. Just let me die."_

The Quarian was pulling back and what troubled him the most was that she was seeing hallucinations, it is the brains natural defense when someone was entering in the lair of death, he listens to the thumping of her heart and the way her voice rose coherent when she'd bicker on a name that rang, _No, Mordin no. _As a stranger, even in his line of work as a body snatcher, and even the way his teammates glared at him – he still felt the need to please, and help a person that's saved an entire galaxy.

She was tantalizing a real enigma on the value of her strength. He's watched the broadcast that pleaded her gentle nature towards her own and other species. This is why she was meant to live. Though, the thought consumed and he remembered she is to be a _pet._

First things first. He had to stabilize the spike that penetrated the lower regions of her pelvic bone. Slowly releasing her hand, he placed her dog tags into his pouch.

"What are you doing, _Bucket_?" The vorcha's eyes were glistened in humor and a pinch of hunger ravished him when he noticed the pool of blood that drained from her armor like a bowl that was used to carry water. He ran his dexterous fingers over the female which led the Quarian to shoo him away by batting his hand away. "Real shame. Boss wishes to showcase human instead of eat her. Turian nature. Pathetic. Untrusting."

"Give her the space she deserves. She's bleeding out and I need to stabilize the point-of-entry so her chances double and that her body won't recognize the shock. Just go do some work, perhaps organize. I'm sure Desio will appreciate the help." He began to apply pressure to the wound and the body flinched and reacted by sitting up, in response he pushed her back flat among the metal surface.

And she was out.

**-x-**

"You are fine. You may sit up now." The Quarian knelt down to her body, offering his hand out for her to take. Shepard laid there, gathering thoughts, touching the surface of her skin, but she heard the Quarian's plea not to examine, not to touch yet. "Just – grab my hand, I am to help you up, Shepard."

Anger struck her, and her response was to lash out at the man before her. She bolted herself in a sitting position, grabbing hold to the Quarian's mask and directing his glassy surface close to hers. "You. Who the hell are you? Where am I? Status report on my crew's current location, and what of Anderson?"

"My name? My name is Ket'Jaa nar Reej." Ket seemed frantic when he watched the simmer of rage burst between the lovely blues of Shepard's eyes. He tried to pull her hands down from his mask, worried that she would unlatch his enviro-suit, "and Anderson you speak of? He's dead. His body mangled by unnatural heat, surprising you – I mean I-"And Shepard shook his being, jolting his head closer to hers.

She was breathing hard, she had to settle. "I'm sorry about the fright, Shepard. Though, I recommend you to settle. You are in no need to stress, your body needs to-"

"You never answered my report on crew status."

"I do not know."

"Then you were not part of the fleet?"

"No. I never finished my pilgrimage."

She pushed him away, he stuttered, but straiten himself under her glare. She crossed her arms over the thin material across her chest, even without the armor she was menacing.

"State your business with me. I've heard bits of your conversations while you assumed I was out. Come clean upfront is a motto I live by, Ket."

Nervously he played with his hands, not exactly appealing with full eye contact. "Honestly? Well – our destination lies with Krogan home world. Someone has made deals, pulled strings to retrieve you."

"For what personal gain? I should be rebuilding with my crew."

"I know you should, Commander. Though, someone has bargained for your remains. A real bonus to keep you alive, and for that, I apologies. This Turian – he'll treat you well."

She wanted to break the glass though his helmet and her usually carefree and determined attitude began to melt. Oh, she could feel herself wanting to pull the wires from his suit, let him suffocate, catch an illness to render the equivalent of beautiful murder, thought, she couldn't stand under the account of her weak persona that she was carrying on her shoulders right now. "I am to be a damn pet?"

"More of a companion to Galen Kyril. He greatly respects you I hear. No worries, Commander. I am to be your caretaker even while he's away. More of a nurse in your equivalence in your human customs."

"We have pets on Earth, they are also called _companions, _still makes them a pet, Ket." Ket's communication light flickered, and he tried his hand in comforting, "No! No. You don't understand, Commander. I'll protect you if the deal sours. He just seeks your wisdom, and for her presences. But, you are to stay with him."

"I should kill you, Ket. You and your entire petty squad."

"Don't think of me that way, Commander. I only wish to be in your service. To see that you live well. Like I said before, I promise to protect you."

**-x-**

"What a pleasure, Jane."

"Don't say my name. It's Commander to you." Ket had to carry her limp frame, she was much too weak to even exit the shuttle. She fought the Quarian, called him every name in the book that his translator couldn't catch and it bewildered him. She was tense against him, though, he couldn't quite capture the lining of her face when she faced her new owner. "I demand passage back to Earth. Or the Urdnot clan. Whichever is easier for you."

The Turian could only watch her, so vulnerable, yet so hell-bent. This interested Galen greatly. He stood in closer to her, taking a few steps to invade her privacy and grabbing hold of her tender, fleshed hand. She'd jerk back, and Ket held onto her tighter

"I demand it."

"Then I'm sorry to inform you Jane that you hold no such power on this bit of land, that I live on. It's private, warm, and protected. I'm sure you'll enjoy it once I settle you down with a room and supply you with new clothes. Medical purposes are up to Ket, so be gentle on the kid."

Ket's being tightened when her murderous vex was casted in his direction and the movement she postured spoke the levels of betrayal. Any moment now he was expecting for her palm to latch onto his mask and to be ripped from its spot. It never came.

Galen turned to the opening of his home, motioning Ket to walk with him while he cradled Shepard's weak form in his arms. The turian seemed to ignore the other male and only spoke to Shepard when he was giving the grand tour.

The rooms were decorated in guns, some of the most expensive guns to ever exist. Guns that glistened over the raw use and was simply gathering dust. He showed her the kitchen area, the living room that bubbled fished tanks, the grand halls that seemed endless that hung dog tags shamefully and the helmets of dead men. Shepard's stomach turned, revolted by the very idea of keeping a dead man's personal equipment as their own and to not send them back to their family.

Though, Galen kept talking, and talking, and talking. The very idea of being some aliens' pet frightened her, but what caught her attention the most is when he glared at her and asked her, "I do catch the scent of another turian on you? Why is that? Don't mind me asking."

"I do mind, in fact." Her tone spoke volumes of seething anger, draping over the very edge of Ket's grasp. He'd stiffened his posture, feeling his chest tighten uncomfortably over the particular conversation.

"Bonding? You must be use to the idea of being with other turians I assume. Nothing wrong with humans mating with other species. Rare, but not unwelcomed."

"Shove it." And she knew exactly he was talking about Garrus.

Galen could only chuckle, his mandibles flared in a humorous grin, shaking his head over her confidence. "Turian men are very interested in strong women. And Shepard, you're one of the strongest women in the galaxy. I envy your certain turian."

"No, there are others that are just as, or more. I was just brave enough not to shut my mouth. Let's not speak upon my matters." And Ket continued down the hall with her till they reached her courters.

Once alone, Ket laid her among the bed, stretching out his arms from her weight. In response she curled up and kept her strong preference on her face. "Fuck you." She'd utter to Ket.

The Quarian nodded, stood in for a deep sigh and sat next to her. He fiddled in his own pouch to give her the dog tags that she was holding onto when they found her.


	3. Chapter 3

**All My Heroes Are Dead**

_If you promise not to cry then I'll tell you just what I would say if I could be with you tonight._

**Title: Perspective **

**Word Count: 1,365**

He leans over the body that once pumped life. Wondering fingers stroked over the surface of her hair, desperately he wishes for something sarcastic to peak his interest. Though, nothing came when he held her body close to his being. Cradling her, dreaming dreams to hear her memory, but none was granted to him and he could only wish. _"You had a soul. The most beautiful than anyone that I knew."_ Joker left it at that. He sat alone in the interrogation bay, bones unwilling to move but stable under medical consent from the Med Bay doctor.

Liara would come to sit quietly next to him on certain days when he choose to mourn, then sat with him when he felt at his best, or the closest thing to it. He'd hum of happier times to her. He spoke of Shepard and he spoke of EDI and all of those who were lost in between that he wished he got to know better, but never had the privilege of fully leaving the chair by himself. Well, until EDI granted him with an able body.

"She wouldn't want to see you like this. Neither one of them would of wanted to see you like this." Her hand ghosted over his uniform, touching his shoulder, soothing out the wrinkles. "EDI has found home. Home amongst us. She was one of us the entire time even if we only realized it in a short amount of time. She showed passion and the true beauty of an actual being." Her words did not persuade him to notice her and even when she pulled out the plaque, he still didn't heed the world around him. If he'd took notice to the words _EDI _engraved across the board, then possibly he'd believe that she was gone.

He held the form closer to him, burying his face into the exposed neck of EDI's platform. Desperately he rocked to settle his nerves and the motion caused Liara to sit back to give Joker the peace he deserved. Joker spoke of nothing, and he ignored the sounds that betrayed him. Even Javik's footsteps that clanked in the distance behind Liara.

"The Turian –" Liara turned around to match her gaze with Javik, studying the way he held back for the moment to take heed to the human on the floor holding his fallen synthetic. He erected his posture, arms held securely behind his back, correcting himself, "Garrus. He asked me if you were ready. By his stance, the way that he holds himself, I believe he won't pull though."

Liara nodded, placing the plaque of EDI's in front of the grieving man. Her eyes lingered for the moment on the way his face pressed against EDI. And she left him at that.

Javik paused, and within hearing range of Joker he speaks upon the Asari who is drawn back by his change in nature, proudly he proclaims, "The Turian believes the Commander is not dead. And I – Simply feel the same way."

There was no time for everyone to close their eyes and stop believing.

**-x-**

Galen watched Shepard from behind the glass, clicking his talons over the surface to gain her attention. She'd ignore his advances and instead settled her mind on her father's dog tags, thumbing over the imprint again, which, in turn only reminded her of her own mother that must have been devastated.

"Do you have everything you need? I was meaning to ask Ket to bring you some warmer clothes. It certainly gets colder in this wing of the home." Galen tapped his talon again over the glass, in turn, Shepard shot him a knowing glower of a glare, her lips pulling in thin, pink lines.

"I am fine." She squeezed out and the sound of her voice made his mandibles flare, encouraging that this could be a start in proper conversation that he craved with the famous war hero. "But you know what would be absolutely perfect? Something that you can do for me?"

"Surely, though, it does depends upon your request, Commander. I only aim to please." His grin seemed smug, placing his talons over the heart section of his clothes, pacing the grounds in front of the glass that was located in his office.

"The fastest damn shuttle to Urdnot clan." Venon seeped so beautifully across her human lips, the action itself only cause Galen to grin harder under her hard stare. He truly respected the female, a true challenge to any turian to conquer.

"I'd love to, truly. My hands seemed to be tied at the moment on that certain request. Possibly ask later? Maybe I might answer." His pace stopped in front of her, taking in opportunity to admire her determined outlook, her troubled gaze, or the way that her hair was tucked behind her ear. He studied everything.

"Then may I speak to Ket? He's the only one that makes sense in this hell hole." Galen's sub harmonics ceased to be laced in pleasure, and his glare came across her like a ton-of-bricks.

"Well, that's rude. And here I was considering about letting you get the 'fastest damn shuttle.'" He mocked her, and her commanding physic did not take kindly to the change of tone, or the way his lingering eyes always trailed paths down her body. "Besides, you can speak to Ket later. I have you for the meantime."

"What a joy." She stood up, pacing herself and turning her fixation to the other side of the wall, statues of veren riddled the backdrop, and a few decor of Krogan armors and their crest were placed neatly in formation, the act itself brought disgust.

"I do enjoy human reactions, Commander."

"Oh yeah?" Anger flooded her cheeks. She took a deep breath to let out whatever bent her up. She clicked her boots together to gain his attention to look up at her face.

"Of course. It gets even better when you choke them." She showed no horror on the outside, but paced back when Galen came in closer to the glass, hands trickling down the surface. "Including when you make them take you down in their mouths. Turian women cannot do what human females can do. I can assure you. "

Shepard jolted towards the glass, her foot slamming down against the surface. She bent all her anger up by thrashing against the surface. "You son of a bitch! Get me the hell out of here and face me like the Turian you are!" She was slamming her shoulder frantically against the prison. Railing with every ounce of her being.

Galen could only stand there, with his arms crossed, and a look of pure satisfaction. "That. What you're doing. That's a good start. Get angrier, Commander. I enjoy it."

**-x-**

Hannah Shepard was slumped over the vast fields of corpus that litter her surroundings. Her hands were clutched into the dirt, holding onto the chain that she so recently found. Her eyes tightened, and she let a hand slide down her face to simmer her emotion that threatened the verge of tears.

She'd stare into the blinding skies of London, though northern downpour was threating, churning the clouds a deep-meaning of black. "My little girl. My baby." Without shame she pressed her lips against the dog tags, they were Shepard's, though, there was no body to show for it and the action automatically dubbed her MIA.

Miranda and Jack hunkered down to the Admiral's body, they've beckoned for reconstruction, touching the shoulder of the Admiral who would automatically pull back with much haste. Rocking back and forth with her child's tags held tightly in her hands, and as if praying, against her lips.

"She can't be dead. Seeing is believing. We'll scout this whole damn area, turn over every corpus. She's out here. I-"Miranda placed her hand back upon the older Shepard. Together they took a whole new meaning in the process of mercy.

"I can feel it too."


	4. Chapter 4

**All My Heroes Are Dead**

_Way-Hay and up she rises_

**Title: The Galaxy Is Her Song.**

**Word Count: 2052**

"No, no, no." Shepard takes the moment to look over her shoulder to await the heavy-mec that positioned its targets in her cross-hairs. She's tired, she's stumbling with the clip till she finally reloads the pistol and holds it to her chest protective over her only means of a lifeline. She's dragging out her breath, her vision blurred by her own blood that seemed to drape against her forehead, and she attempted to wipe away the progress several times.

She calculates her position and it is by nature that she does so. Illuminating brightly, the titian coloring of her omni-tool flickered upon her wrist. She makes busy by dragging her fingers across the screen that is latch to her wrist, she times herself, then triggers her defense of overload. Numbers flash between her gaze and the beast of machinery is taken down a peg when she dismisses its armor.

She takes a tumble from her cover and unloads all her firearm into the circuits, letting it buzz, and then combusted before her eyes. The hand that held her pistol she used the back of it to wipe her forehead again, taking in heavy breaths slowly through her nose to settle her nerves.

The intercom cracks in the distance, and she takes in the surroundings of the dome in the middle of nowhere, placed smack-dap in the middle of utter hell and roaming desert that lashed about its winds. She could hear clapping from the speakers before the tide of unneeded oxygen rattled through them, "I'm impressed. I never expected anything less from you. Your choice on the next round, Jane, shall it be a pack of verren or –"

"I don't even have enough ammunition for my gun." She's commanding, and Galen is drawn by her voice that interrupts his god-complex. She throws down her pistol, and readies herself on whatever his plans of 'torture' are. The turian waits, draws his camera's to her figure that is battered and worn, though, his talons curled into fist when he saw her pink lips draw north as in to mock him, cracked in crimson across them.

He punches the commands to release the verren upon her. Her boots slide across gravel, settling her friction. She eyes the beasts that claws upon the surface in a full stride, though, she's already measured herself up upon prey.

When one drives into her presence, her omni-blade unleashes and surges against skull, leaving the crackling of scales to simmer underneath, her other arm is complicated as she is swarmed by a pair of jaws that clench against her forearm and tugs her down, reaction time kicked in and she pulled the blade out of one skull to only strum across the neck of another, departing skin from the verren.

She comes upon a sea of them, and the whites in her eyes become too real for her to mention, and how she could feel her limit drawing to the end, though, pride was smitten by her and she began the treatment of lashing the blade out in a glide, taking out two of them that gained enough courage to pounce in her direction.

She can feel the cybernetics from under her skin to begin its process of knitting back the genetic make-up too fast. Her veins pump more blood, and she's teetering between the forces of illusion when her adrenaline rushes her full-force.

Her throat clenched when she gave into shuttered breath, hitching, she'd pull back to be faced with yellow eyes by the swarm. She had to start tossing them, and when she did, they'd scramble back up to her and to give her enough reaction time to swing her blade, and it arrowed under them. Her foot taking swift combat to stomp one of their jaws into the ground, twisting it into gore about her boots.

Galen has been playing her. That little war relic that she was. He'd admire her, watch her from the corner of his eye that were plagued with emerald. She humored him when she bit her tongue to protest, instead, she waited, she listened to every dragged out word he preached among her: uselessness, daft, human. She was just a toy solider that he looked forward to using for her personal entertainment.

If he was truthful with himself, which he wasn't, he'd be horrified by her. It wasn't her track record that spoke waves to him – it was how she crossed her arms behind her back, her lips dulling to thin lines, blue eyes trailing his image, and how she never complained when he wanted to play with her strength and her wit when it came to drugging her and then dragging her into an empty, enclosed field to test her. He noted her flexibility the most and how she made due with the weapon her body supplied her with. She was a genius that put numbers ahead of her before charging the masses.

Pure genius. And he'd grinned when he came into the close-up with her boot smashing into the remains of the last beast that threatened her, averting her eyes deeply into sight of the camera and hovered – like she was watching Galen the entire time.

**-x-**

"Communications are fully operational. Directing contact." Tali motioned for Garrus, and the image of Admiral Shepard appeared vividly, flickering blues scattered the connection, but settled with Tali's quick hands in tinkering. Garrus nodded his gratitude.

The Admiral crossed her arms behind her back, a shift in her position, but her back fell erect when she watched the alien's gaze. "Shepard here," Garrus cringed when he came across the exact, older replica of Jane, excuse the graying.

"It's good to finally have reasonable contact." And the Admiral nodded to his words, though she fell to her strict nature, with a simple response that canceled out his feeling, "And it's good to have connection with your crew. How are you holding?"

"Finally lifted. How is your side?" Garrus responded. Tali kept flickering with commands, and Kaiden idly watched from the entry way.

"Ours? Earth is in shambles but hope lives upon the surface. The human race will rebuild. No use bickering like diplomats in that matter, the sun still shines so let's leave it at that. " Her tone fell flat, but riddled mournful. Pressed against time. "We will be expecting your ship. There, we will help with any means. Connect communications with your planets, supplies, so on." The older Shepard nodded to her own report, arms drawing flat.

"Any other news?" And the Admiral knew exactly what he spoke of, but she dismissed it with another topic. It led Garrus in frustration, but he shrugged it off in current respect.

"We have connected with the krogan homeworld. They've been speaking of the scavengers that are picking off the war field. Stealing tags, information off the bodies," the Admiral paused, and her eyes softened, "bodies also." The Admiral shifted, and she let her lips fall into a small smile. Garrus noticed that small gesture right away, it was something that Jane would use when something bothered her the most. "Perhaps," she cleared her throat, "while on your tour of cleanup, you'll dock upon the planet? See about this business."

"We'll set course. It'll take us longer with construction, but with Jane –"The Admiral's form stiffened, and Garrus regretted his placement of words. Her boots clicked.

"I know. I know of the possibility that these men are stealing bodies. I just – know. But, I respect you on many volumes and your own judgment upon the matter. You'll make good with my daughter's crew. Mr. Vakarian, you give an old woman hope. No mother should attend their own child's funereal twice."

Garrus drew in silent for the moment, muttering, "We will do what we have to. It's a stretch, but we'll do something."

The Admiral nodded, giving a low smile, "I know. Shepard, out." Communication faded, but Garrus continued the stare upon the hubs direction. He felt the gentle pat of Kaiden's hand upon his shoulder.

**-x-**

She's been thinking lately, the way that she thumbs over her bond-mark on her wrist, and her thought process would dull. She was sick, and the pleasures of thinking brought her home. Happier times, and sadder moments sprang to life like growth upon vast miles of destruction; just where sun could touch Earth over multiple horizons. Consuming, dying.

She'd think upon the first mark that faded, and the mark that she received before the battle. How razor teeth hesitated over her snow complexion. First, pressing of mouth plates against her wrist, and she waited patiently till he sunk his teeth into her skin. She'd railed, almost jerking against his bonding, then settled when he pressed her wound back against his mouth, cradling her wrist in his hand; talons wrapping about it. Promising the pain would not last.

She remembered how Garrus' eyes filled with upmost pride when his haze took hold of hers. Momentarily, he was still keeping the wrist pressed against his lips, indulging to the smell of her iron, crimson-coated blood that began to drip off her skin and upon the bedspread. Then, he motioned for her to return the affection, but her teeth were blunt and could not define their love upon his skin when he offered his neck to her, so instead, she offered something to him of greater value of promise, something that's been passed down by her family.

He was bewildered by Shepard's attempt to remove the chain about her neck, snapping the clasp that held a charm. This certain ivory fish charm was always tucked away under her clothing, and he's taken notice of it before when she hovered over him in their bonding principles. How the fish would tap against her bare chest with every bounce she claimed, and he had to rest her hands upon her hips to compose himself. Ironically, this charm also contained a certain meaning to their practice.

"It's something that my dad brought me on one of his trips when I was a little girl. It's made of ivory and was handmade. My father told me about this older woman who'd make these on the street to peddle creds out of the tourist; he always had weird taste." She'd remember the look in his eyes, and how he really didn't want to take something of great value to her, something that's been melted into her childhood. Though, she pressed it upon him, clasping his hand about the chain and she pressed it against his chest for him to take it off her person, smiling dully. "I insist."

He was silent in the time being, till he reached out with his free hand to grasp the back of her head and to reel her against his face. How his brow touched hers, how he thought so much and pondered about what life would be like if one of them was to die while the other one was cursed to walk the land of the living. She'd dismiss the claim, and made him promise to continue on if that was the case. There is a line with duty that he must accomplish before he is allowed to meet her at that corner bar in heaven he'd always joke about.

She knew him better than that. Jokingly, he spoke of children. How he'd be honored to help carry on a line and how she'd laughed about DNA was not in his favor to conceive with her. And it saddened him to think that his bond-mate, the only person he cared to be with, could not carry his young. Nonetheless, she spoke of adoption after the war, or if the need of wanting to see her pregnant, the science of artificial insemination could come into the equation of her to acquire human birth of human children.

And he'd agree to anyone of them.

Shepard was brought out of the thought of it and lost her cool when she saw Galen behind the glass. Glaring, she planned his death with every eye movement he placed upon her. She was going to kill him, just give her free range and her bare hands.


	5. Chapter 5

**All My Heroes Are Dead**

**Title: Cover Me**

**Word Count: 2673**

_Do you think…? God stays in Heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he created?_

In the 1800s women were looked down upon by the male population. Forbade to vote, known to be weak minded, hid in homes and behind the confines of makeup. And these women would smile; for they, have given up on the hope. Those women were told at a very young age that they would cook, clean, and birth. Their bodies were just a factory, built strong, but had no choice in what it manufactured.

When you think upon it, when Shepard thought about it between the four-walled prison, that humans have resulted to the same matters – that aliens believed them weak-minded. But, think about this - Shepard has boosted that tenfold, that she, a female human no less, has pushed the bounds that no one would claim. She'd only wished that others would follow suit, like Ashely.

Pondering, that human females must be the lowest of the low in the galaxy. Considered weak among the masses. Shepard would show them. That's what her mother planned, and that is what she planned. She'd show the better nature of a human female – cunning, intelligent, and knew how to stand their ground in any predicament. They would not be known as 'vulnerable.'

"I haven't been liking your attitude lately, Jane." Shepard would glance up from her troubled thoughts. Staring up at the turian behind the glass, his mandibles clenched, wearing his best clothing for the evening.

Shepard picked at the carpet from underneath her for the moment, letting her eyes study his features, letting numbers run through her head and how many colorful ways she could snap his neck with her bare hands, but she was quiet, she'd let him talk.

"Have you considered smiling lately? I'm starting to think your human mother has never taught you manners." Yet again, Shepard spoke of nothing. Her fingers stopped playing busy. And she let her full attention draw to Galen, watching the lines of his pink throat come alive under her watch, it made her sick and she'd figured it'd look better with his blood running down it, sea blue in all its wondrous, natural paints. "Not going to budge, eh Jane? No matter. Have you been eating properly? Ket's been telling me that you've been giving him trouble lately about it. I'm only worried about you. How else are you going to be strong enough to fight? You are my most valuable war relic."

That plagued her something murderous when he said that. A smile taking fold upon her thin lips. Now it was Galen's turn to study her body language, which only left his mouth dry. "Take off your clothes."

It didn't take all that much till his words smacked her ears with such an impact, and his mandibles fluttered when he finally got a reaction that floored her. Her smile was wiped clean right off her pale features.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Take off your clothes. I can flip a switch that'd kill you behind the glass, so, take off your clothes."

He was stepping his boundary, and the confirmation was making Shepard nervous. The entire galaxy knew the weakness of the female human physiology, and the emotional state of it; shame her once and she'd be at her knees.

"Why don't you come behind the glass and make me take them off." Shepard's tone was laced with vile intentions and she promised herself that she'd dart for his eyes first. Plucking deep into the orbitals, ripping out the strands with only her fingertips. She was now standing, staring eye-to-eye with the Devil, himself from behind the glass.

"Goodness. Excited are we? No, sadly, I will have no part in that. Now do as I say, Jane. The more you do, the more I'll pity you and perhaps promise freedom?"

"I do love good humor." Her shocked expression turned bored in a matter of seconds. Though, Galen knew better from the way she clenched her fist, and balled them to the sides of her frame.

"Need help? I can always send Ket in there with you. I know you won't rip his wires out. Because you're Commander Jane Shepard. Galactic war hero and a well-known push over. You pity the slaves." Shepard could only frown. She was hesitant on how her fingers loomed over the hem of her shirt, though, as a woman, and her woman side did scream, that she was strong even in the most horrid of situations and how her pride dangled in front of a stranger.

She'd think about the first month here. How Ket tried everything to get her to talk. He spoke of many things, mostly muttering, but he spoke and gifted her with the tongue of conversation. A poor boy, young, foolish and stupid enough to be pegged slave. Told to scavenge, told to find value in the war zones. Carried bodies, carried helmets, and carried tags for Galen.

Ket was good, just lost.

Galen watched her like the pet he assumed she was. Eyes flickered over pale flesh that radiated under the call of fluorescent lights. Toned battle scars came into the picture, along with the décor of tiny green fish that riddled up her ribcage, tattooed and placed among her skin. Something that seemed so unexpected. There must have been a story to them.

She began to unbutton her pants, sliding them down the stature of long legs. Her clothes casted away, and she stood in confidence under his silence.

She was testing him.

"All off it. Take it all off." Galen pointed his murderous talons to her underclothing. She swallowed her own self guilt, bubbling on the verge of shattering the glass with her body; she could see red.

She started with unhooking her bra, grabbing the patting till she slunk it off. Then horror struck home when she had to remove her panties. No man, and she repeated, no man, should be able to see her in this state besides her chosen audience – which in that case brought Garrus to mind.

He was the only one in her life that'd be granted with the privilege of her company and her, the same with him.

She refused to cry in her shame. She bottled up her emotion that seethed and simmered to a breaking point and how much one person, one monster, could belittle her. "You know, this is what you get. This is what you get for being rude. Now you will learn. I won't kill you. Not – not if you really intend on me for doing so. Now Commander do you understand?"

She shook her head and for that moment she felt like a little girl again. Broken to a point in begging. Those eyes, those bloody eyes, still searched for her folly.

She did not draw back, she did not wrap her arms about her chest to shield her sin.

Instead, she stood there. As a women. The woman from behind the glass.

**-x-**

"Incoming vid call from Wrex, Liara." Tali motioned and her omni-tool blazed with the alert of the incoming call. Liara finally settled all her datapads upon the table, tiredly rubbing her eyes. She nodded once, and Tali understood the gesture.

"Patch him through." Liara muttered, drawn back to where Javik began to feel around room, gentle touches coming to contact with solid surface, he was muttering, something that she didn't understand, a language too dead for her communicator to transfer. Her eyes transfixed upon the scatter image of the krogan bathed in a deep red.

"Any news?" The fossil of the krogan rumbled through his deep chest, his arms crossed about. Liara would pace for the moment, gathering her Intel, collecting her thoughts before spewing out anything that had any ounce of meaning. She was shaking her head.

"I've came across the possibility. Many times. That, Admiral Shepard spoke of Shepard's dog tags that were left in an open spot, hung around a pipe that's been coated in DNA, Shepard's DNA to be correct. Scans show that the annualized tissue, the traces of skin, how the blood smeared, and how the pipe was sawed, that she was yanked from her spot. But, that doesn't explain why her dog tags were placed like that or even the reason behind leaving dog tags. It's truly baffling." She paused over the motion of the silent korgan before returning to full rant, motioning her hands in doing so, "I'll be sending out agents on your homeworld. To – scout the slave trade, black market, mostly vorcha – I've even tried to commune with Aria of Omega, though, I figure her connection is still out."

The small asari would pause, Wrex could only shrug his shoulders, though she pressed on, "Even so, the fact that bothers me the most is that the pipe _was _sawed. Any halfwit would know if someone was to be penetrated that the pipe would act as a plug to stop the blood. Common medical knowledge really. Which leads everyone to believe that whoever abducted Shepard's body meant to keep her alive. And there is a great possibility that she is still alive. Even as we speak. I like to rely on hope, but sometimes -"

Liara was growing frantic and she began to rummage through her datapads again. Wrex was finally allowed to have a word in, "So, then I suppose you are making your first stop on Earth? To help out with the cleanup tour?"

"No – no. I've had leads for your planet. My contacts briefed me on several slave shuttles. Besides, Kaiden and Garrus have already spoken to Shepard's mother. She's asked we visit your planet first along the way. Check on the cause." Liara didn't even take the time to stare up at Wrex's shifting image. Tali silently stood in the entry way, nodding off to the krogan who blurred blue. Glyph was buzzing, vibrant in his meaning around Liara's waist.

"That'd be most unwise."

It took Liara moments to recognize Javik's hum of a voice, steady, always placed on a certain tone, calm before the storm.

"Excuse me?" Liara inquired when Javik finally found her speech.

"Take me to Earth. Have this older Shepard show the Commanders' tags to me. I could piece together something, or perhaps her final moments. It could be conflicted by other soldier's memories around the area, but I can make due. I just need to touch the surface of that broken pipe or those tags." Liara's datapad pressed against her chest, setting hues upon Javik, then flashed them back in Wrex's view.

"So, you could direct us on who stole The Commander's body?" Liara's throat clenched. She's been so doubtful, like something was meant to make sure tragedy struck the Normandy crew. "The Alliance has been on clean up, most likely that pipe has been removed."

Javik could only shrug, "Then try."

Wrex's connection faltered, disappearing into void, covered in bleak nature. The three crewmates stood around the room, staring at each other.

"I'll – report in to Joker." Liara was the first to manage, like she always have.

**-x-**

"Favorite memory?" Garrus leaned into the leather couch, outstretching his legs. Garrus shook his head. Clearly in no state-of-mind to truly deal with his surrounding, eyes glossed over, staring and transfixed in the moment of smothering stars that hung outside.

"We're all adults. Whatever happened in the past, you know, with me and her. Sometimes, it's better to talk about things." Kaiden waved it off before he would say anything else that borderline the makings of stupidity. Though, Garrus just sat there. Content for the moment, staring off in starport. Kaiden shook his head, then stumbled with his words after a moment of silence that hazed over, "Garrus, we've been at this a long time. I knew there would be tension on the battlefield when Shepard brought us along with her – but you – after I denied her on Horizon I regretted everything that I've said to her and let the best damn woman walk away. And you were there for her, always there, even in the beginning."

"Turians usually don't talk about their _feelings_. Not like humans. Hell, affection is a rare site, it's there, but yeah. Kaiden, we shouldn't really talk about this, not now, not for a while." Garrus was leaning forward, fingers entwined, seeking the thoughts that emerged, bewildered by the enigma of human intentions of stating things that were long since dead. "Now, we've both lost her." His tone broke bearable, calm, retreating, almost like a hum. "The galaxy will be an empty place if we don't pinpoint her. Even if –"He let out a great deal of breath, straitening his posture under the Major's watch.

"I wouldn't trust her with anyone else but you." Kaiden motioned over to sit on the adjacent side of the couch. Together, they both shared a moment, gathering thoughts, considering settling down, enjoying the factors of freedom.

"Chocolate oranges and cranberry juice." Kaiden leveled his view to Garrus who'd only repeat his thought with a better explanation. "When we first started to really take each other serious, I bought her those. She'd go on all the damn time about how they were her favorite, how it was physically impossible to pick up those certain items. Now – she could have gotten them from import but she had no time with, well, you know. So, I called in a few favors. Asked around. Stuff like that." Kaiden nodded, smiling, propping his elbows upon his knees, leaning the weight of his head into his hands, "When I gave it to her, she was downright ecstatic. Something so little perked her up in a matter of moments. She spoke of her father. Apparently, when she was a little girl, her father would buy her these treats every time they retreated for shore leave."

"That was real nice of you. Real _romantic._" Kaiden gave a subtle chuckle that sprouted from his chest. Kaiden's sound only caused Garrus to give into a cough, a grumble, and then a murmur.

"Yea, well, the cranberry juice smelt horrid and downright bitter. And the candy orange… It was round, covered in orange wrapping and before she even unwrapped it she threw it down on the table as hard as she could. It was… awkward. I thought I upset her or something, I knew she was crazy, but still, she said something about 'that's how you get the chocolate to separate.' I knew your kind rooted from primates, no offence, but it was something interesting." Garrus gave a low shrug.

Kaiden could only smile harder. "We will find her, buddy. We'll find her."

**-x-**

"Commander…" Ket was bent over her bare form. Three finger digits trailing over her pale shoulders, lightly shaking her to gain her attention. "Shepard…" He spoke again, his speaker breaking in tune to his voice when he saw the broken women huddled, shielding her area from prying eyes.

"You must eat. I do not want to sedate you and provide you with the nutrients, please reason with me." Comforting in nature, Ket ran his gloved fingers down her bare arms, then back up. "I'll promise to speak to Galen about these – arrangements. Perhaps if I ask for a blanket to cover yourself?"

Ket wasn't some weasel, some monster like the master he was sworn to. Compassion ran through his circuits, and pumped his blood. He was heartbroken about the display Galen would provide Shepard in.

A savior pretending to smile in the face of the enemy.

"I am here. You are not alone."

"I am alone, Ket." She shook her head, her eyes plastered to solid surface of the ground, watching, waiting, and dreaming of death that'd swoop her by. She was plagued with survivors' guilt, give her till morning, and she'll find meaning again to fight, to only have her predicament thrown in her face again.

**-x-**


End file.
